


Like a Greased Pig

by omniastorm



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dorks in Love, M/M, My First Fanfic, My First Smut, Oral Sex, Pet Names, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Roleplay, feedback welcome!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-12 04:45:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16866391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omniastorm/pseuds/omniastorm
Summary: An epilogue of sorts to the season four episode "Witch Hunt." Ray returns to the Time Bureau at night to bring Nate a Waverider care package. Nate delivers to Ray a care package of his own.





	Like a Greased Pig

"Ava, I promise I'll move out of here by the end of the week, it's just that today was exhausting with you-know and my AirBnB account is susp—" started Nate Heywood until he realized it wasn't Ava at the Time Bureau tonight. "Ray?"

Ray Palmer spun around until he caught sight of Nate. "Nate!"

"What are you doing here, buddy?" said Nate, closing in on Ray for one of their mandatory bro-hugs.

"You left some things behind on the Waverider — I mean, I know this thing you're doing with the Time Bureau isn’t a forever thing, but! I figured it couldn’t hurt to help make your stay more comfortable."

Ray paused, noting that Nate was wearing his usual, pale blue nighttime attire: a loosely-tied bathrobe sitting atop an undershirt and an unremarkable pair of boxers, completed with fuzzy blue slippers on his feet. No trademark shower cap atop his glorious hair though; he probably hadn’t begun his haircare routine yet.

"But you do look pretty comfortable already!" said Ray, meaning no slight by the comment. 

During their time together on the Waverider, he and Nate had grown close to one another. Ray knew all about the critical measures needed to preserve the weight and shape of Nate's impressive hair. That's why he made sure to bring Nate a spare jar of coconut oil, which, at room temperature, looked less like oil and more like bleached mayonnaise.

"Ah, my elixir of life! Thank you, Ray!" said Nate as he began retrieving the contents bundled in Ray's arms. Ray recited inventory as Nate grabbed the items one-by-one.

"The oil, pomade, hairspray, the hoodie you wear when listening to the Rocky soundtracks, regular sweatpants, emergency sweatpants, your copy of _Obelisks: What’s the Point?_ , and a few other items wrapped in the aforementioned emergency sweatpants," said Ray. "And of course you're always welcome to come by and pick up more stuff or drop off anything off—or just say hello!—I just figured it couldn't hurt to stop by with a care package."

"Dude, I so appreciate it," said a Nate partially obscured by the items in his arms. "How about I drop this stuff off in one of the conference rooms and you can tell me more about today's fairy/witch hunt shenanigans, yeah?"

"Yeah! I'd love that," perked up Ray, whose enthusiasm was in-part compensating for the fact that he’d back _catching up_ Nate on their adventures from now on. He was happy for his fellow Time Bro in his decision to build something new for himself in the Time Bureau, but he was nonetheless a bit crestfallen.

Ray followed Nate into one of the Time Bureau's rather indistinct conference rooms, where Nate set his personal effects onto the main conference table. The room itself was wide, its interior wall made of transparent plexiglass to allow the rest of the bureau to see inside, and filled the kind of things common to conference rooms: among them a boardroom table and matching chairs, potted plants, a leather couch with adjoining end tables, and office supplies strewn about.

"Do you mind if I step out for a sec?" asked Nate as he started towards the room's opposite door. "I just want to check to make sure there are no other Time Bureau agents staying late, so we don't disturb...whatever it is they specifically do here? I get the general picture but I'm still a little fuzzier on the details."

Nate stepped out, and Ray was left further eyeing the conference room in his buddy's new base of operations. He didn't wholly understand why Nate wanted to take a break from the Legends. With them he had adventures unparalleled by anything he'd have with the Time Bureau, a ship that could manifest era-appropriate clothing and meal-appropriate condiments simultaneously, friends, and, well, _him_ , specifically. Ray had always felt out-of-step with everyone around him — academically, sure; socially, absolutely — and Nate was the first guy in a long time with whom he had felt normal. Appreciated and even wanted, too.

And Ray had always felt like he provided similar solace for Nate. He didn't know that for sure, Nate preferred talking about the centuries-distant past over his more recent kind, but thanks to Ray's earlier run-in with Nate's father he better understood why. But this sudden move to the Time Bureau still stung Ray a bit, causing him to wonder why he was so easily made a negotiable loss.

When Nate returned just a few minutes later, this time without his bathrobe, Ray was freed from dwelling on gnawing insecurities and began recounting to Nate the team's extraordinary and harrowing and yet still altogether pretty par-for-the-Legends-course day.

* * *

"And that's how I wound up on all fours, with cloven digits and a curly tail!" chuckled Ray. "It wasn't too long afterward until you swung by."

Ray found himself getting kind of warm, so he peeled off the Time Bureau Softball hoodie he had been wearing since earlier this evening, part of the outfit given to him after he transformed from pig to naked human in Nate’s hands, in the middle of just this office. He was still considerably more clothed now, with a black undershirt and dark blue Time Bureau Softball sweatpants.

"Actually, now that I think of it — how were you able to understand me, oinks and squeals and all?"

Nate pondered the question for a few seconds.

"The reasonable conclusion would be that Gideon's language-translating technologies extend to animal speech somehow, but I prefer to believe it was just the natural strength of our bro-bond."

Ray laughed. "Yeah! Yeah, of course."

"So what was it like, exactly, being a pig? Because when we spoke, it was clear you still had human-you's consciousness in pig-you's body. I don’t imagine I’d be able to converse like that with most other pigs, though maybe it’s unfair of me to assume.”

"Well," said Ray, taking some time to recollect. "The physical perspective change wasn't too drastic, given my, you know, whole shrinking thing, if anyone could've been prepared for that, I guess it was me."

"Is it weird to say it wasn't that weird?" he continued. "Like, sure, my plans for the afternoon were ruined, can't really organize your underwear drawer with hooves, but I knew I'd get snapped out of it eventually, given the recent addition of a broody magic-user to our team. And I don't think being a pig affected my behaviors at all? I was a bit hungry, but I wasn't going to risk coming between pig-Mick and the fridge. Heat ray or not, I think he would've had my bacon."

As the two laughed, Ray caught something out of his eye: the jar of Nate's coconut oil sitting at the edge of the conference table. Its contents were no longer solid, it was now overwhelmingly liquid, with a few glacier-esque chunks of solidified hold-outs bobbing around in the yellow-tinted fluid.

"Also, speaking of heat rays—" Ray paused. Not his best transition. "—did it get warmer in here?"

"Ah, yeah!" replied Nate. "When I stepped out of the room a while back and saw that no one else was here, I decided to turn the heat up a bit. Y'know, sweating, cleansing the body's pores and all that. Is it bothering you?

"Oh no, not at all!" Ray thought it was a little odd, but he didn't want to impinge on Nate's health habits. It was Nate's temporary new home, he was just the guest who showed up in the middle of the night.

"I hadn't really noticed that much, I just happened to catch that your jar of coconut oil had almost completely melted. That's normal, yeah?"

"Yup! Preferred actually, makes it easier to handle for your hair." Nate lightly hovered his hands over his hair, and then froze, realizing he didn't have his shower cap on, meaning he also hadn't carried out his nighttime haircare routine.

"Oh! Do you mind?"

"No, not all," responded Ray, understanding Nate's whole charade. 

Nate darted out of the room and came back moments later equipped with his comb and shower cap.

"This stuff is just so good, y'know?" started Nate as he approached the jar. "It strengthens and cleans hair, freshens breath, moisturizes the skin, serves as a great shaving cream, it tastes great in kettle corn—hey, don't you roll your eyes at me, Ray Palmer, I know I've told you this before but the repetition is for emphasis."

Ray laughed. His eyeroll was pure tease, he really enjoyed hearing Nate passionately babble on about anything, really, including his beauty tips. And the man, looking as he does, clearly knew what he was talking about.

Nate dipped part of his comb into the oil and had begun combing for it through his hair for a few seconds when he stopped himself.

"You know what, if you're gonna mock my craft, we're going to turn you into a pig once more today," said Nate, grabbing the jar and walking over. "This time, guinea."

"I was actually just teas—"

"Oh no, you've burned through your commentary privileges, pal," retorted Nate, putting a finger to Ray's lips.

Ray smiled and played along. He enjoyed this. And knew he'd miss it.

Nate dipped his comb into the conference table-beset jar, positioned himself behind Ray, and started combing the oil into his friend's hair. He would firmly and precisely push through each section of his scalp before following it up with the comb.

The entire rhythm sent repeated, top-to-bottom shivers through Ray's body, and he tried desperately to stymy his reactions from revealing that to Nate. Each repeated stroke sent Ray into a bit of a hypnotized state, and he was glad that his friend had only been combing from behind or his side periphery so he couldn't see the dumb, contended look on his face. He had been lulled almost into a trance when a sudden wetness flying down his back startled him into a gasp.

"Whoops!" said Nate. "A non-melted glob just fell down the back of your shirt, sorry bud."

"Ah, no worries, it just—"

"Good thing it's also a skin moisturizer!" cheered Nate as he began rolling Ray's shirt up from the bottom. "Arms up!"

A bewildered Ray instinctively lifted his arms and Nate continued pulling Ray's undershirt up over his chest, until Ray had to finish the rest.

"Why are we taking off my—"

"No commentary! Not unless you’re prompted. Critical coconut oil use number two: skin moisturizer. I got it all over your back, might as well put it to good use."

Ray certainly didn't disagree with the idea, he was amused by what was happening, even if he didn't understand how everything had escalated to this point, with him shirtless and somewhat oily in a Time Bureau conference room.

Nate stuck one of his hands pretty deep into the coconut oil jar, grabbing a handful of equal parts liquid and solid. He rubbed his hands together, dissolving most of the solid bits into his hands, and pressed them up against Ray's broad, statuesque shoulders, which looked like they were carved straight out of white marble. Much of Ray's wardrobe hid this, but the man had the build of an Adonis, made especially evident by his carved upper back and colossal forearms.

Nate was a well-built specimen himself, leaner than Ray but nonetheless muscled and strong (and much tanner, a point not infrequently belabored by Nate). It wasn't with much effort at all that he was able to massage his oiled hands into Ray's back. And again, Ray was struck by how comforting and disarming it felt, with Nate kneading harder and with precision. He regularly had to stifle short moans that kept creaking out of his throat.

"And time to spread the wealth, wouldn't want to have uneven skin texture, now would we?" said Nate as he ducked under Ray’s arms and transitioned to his front, positioning himself right before his friend's bulky, pale chest. 

Nate gave Ray a brief, intentional moment of knowing eye contact before he reached into the jar and began repeating his application of oil. He crouched down and started with Ray's lower torso, firmly caressing his abs, which weren't easily seen but were definitely felt, in a looping, circular motion. He slowly migrated northward, taking inventory of each and every ab on the way up, until he reached the underside of Ray's pecs, which were, on the other hand, very well-defined to the eye.

"Can you feel the oil taking any effect?" asked Nate, purposely denying Ray eye contact.

Ray Palmer was actively trying not to imitate Nate's powerset and "steel up" accidentally during this entire...performance.

"Yeah, I'm feeling many effects right now," sputtered Ray.

Nate, keeping his eyes focused just below Ray's chest, succeeded in stifling a laugh. He had just slathered his hands further with more coconut oil and was now beginning to moisturize his friend's pecs, pushing slowly upward and deliberately dragging downward, making a subtle effort to graze Ray's nipples with his thumbs whenever the opportunity presented itself.

With each graze and subsequent shock to his nerves, Ray found himself descending further into a strangled, sexual hell. His stare of confused disbelief all but bored holes into the top of Nate’s head.

"Nate, what exactly are you—"

Ray stopped himselfas he saw Nate freeze, his head still level with Ray's chest. Nate held himself icily still for a few seconds, before elevating himself to match Ray's eye level.

"What did I say, again, about no unsolicited commentary, Ray Palmer?" said Nate with an almost chilling seriousness. "For that infraction, I think it's about time we turn you back into a pig."

For a moment, Ray tensed up, as if the fairy godmother or even John Constantine were around the corner, ready to re-swine him. But then, as he saw Nate grab an apple from a side table fruit basket and start spinning and catching it in the air, he began to suspect Nate had a different intended meaning.

"Open your mouth, Ray Palmer."

Ray steeled his mouth shut.

"Ray Palmer, don't make me make you—" started Nate as he put down the apple.

Nate lunged his hands into Ray's armpits and started tickling with no remorse. A few seconds into Ray's uproarious, protesting laughter, Nate grabbed the apple again and stuffed it into Ray's mouth. And now Ray, especially to Nate, looked ready for a roast.

"Now, we know pigs love to eat," Nate gestured at the apple in a stunned Ray's mouth, "you're welcome for that, by the way, though I'd caution against indulging quite yet. And we know that in some rural, more peculiar parts of the country, people grease up their pigs for sport. Which is exactly what I was doing earlier before you so greedily interrupted me, Ray Palmer," he added, tracing his finger beneath the bottom of Ray's chin.

"And I intend to resume what I started," said Nate as he lowered himself to be level with Ray's waistline.

Then he shot back up, his face's expression returned to a normal, amicable Nate default, with none of the semi-threatening seriousness it had just been sporting.

"Just checking in real quick: are you okay with all of this and where it's going, Ray?"

Ray's ensuing face journey started with shock and ended with a muffled chuckle. Nate removed the apple from Ray’s mouth, what he believed to be of the Golden Delicious variety.

After wiping off some saliva, Ray smirked.

“Yes,” said Ray.

"Safe word, Fluttershy?" offered Nate.

"Well, Applejack is certainly disqualified in this context."

After the two chuckled, Nate abruptly resumed character and stuffed the apple back into Ray's mouth. This wasn't the first time they had fooled around, but it was the first time it had been so unplanned and leading somewhere so un-vanilla.

Wasting no time, Nate crouched back down and ripped down Ray's Time Bureau sweatpants down to the ground in one swift motion. The Time Bureau didn't have spare undergarments hanging around the office, let alone company-brand ones (despite Gary's best efforts), so Ray was, from ankles upward, fully exposed in the middle of the Time Bureau conference room with his best friend crouched in front of him.

Though he knew his buddy's semi-hard pendulum of a dick was bobbing inches above his head, Nate feigned like it wasn't even there. Instead, he continued to remove the rest of Ray's clothes, which were pooled at his feet and ankles.

Nate picked up Ray's left foot, forcing him to shift weight to the other, and peeled off the corresponding sock and let the collapsed leg of Ray's sweatpants fall to the ground. He repeated this with the other foot, and then threw his remaining clothes into a far corner in the room.

"Time to oil up every last square inch of juicy body of yours, Pig Palmer," said Nate to his gagged, captive meal. Aforementioned meal just stood there, in an ongoing daze over the whole ordeal.

With pretenses thrown out the window, Nate was free to push and prod as his greedy hands desired. He returned to Ray's back half, in one part to continue his oiling work with his friend's posterior real estate and in other part to continue denying Ray feedback. He kneaded again at the base of Ray's feet, firmly squeezing at the bottom of his ankle and snaking his way up his thick calves.

Ray couldn't control the muffled moan which escaped his apple-stuffed lips. The ghosts of leg injuries past rendered him particularly sensitive to Nate’s massage. His anticipation build further as he felt Nate's hands grope at the back of his thighs, where it became clear his captor enjoyed the expanding allowance of flesh. Ray would first feel the application of oily liquid, pushed deep into his muscles by Nate's hands, which would then further grope around the sides of his leg. He'd feel pressure first in circular motions, then erratic ones.

"Owf!" choked out Ray as he felt a slap against his right thigh.

"Keeping you nice and tender there, Pig Palmer."

Ray anticipated the likely trajectory of Nate's hands, and noticed as they refused to proceed further past the border of where leg meets cheek. After a few seconds, he felt his skin prickle as Nate traced an index finger along that border in an obvious, and effective, tease. His partial hard-on bounced reflexively.

Instead of going where Ray thought, and secretly hoped, they would, he felt Nate's hands diverting to oil up his hips, where they lightly rocked him back and forth, back and forth. His semi-erect dick gently slapped against his balls with each push of Nate's palms. Nate gradually stood up, touring his hands from Ray's hips to the small of his back, avoiding his ass altogether.

After just about a minute of his lower back rocking and prodding, Nate hooked his left forearm around Ray's chest, restraining him partially so he could stabilize Ray as he pushed and rubbed further. This positioned Nate's body a mere inches from his own, with just enough space for Nate's right hand to continue its work. On occasion, part of Nate's chest met Ray's sweat-and-oil-moistened back, which Ray could feel via the slow peeling off of his friend's undershirt from his skin.

Nate kept Ray in this pseudo chest-lock, arm around his pecs and yet again grazing his nipples whenever the opportunity arose. By necessity, though, he had to create more distance as he reached Ray's upper shoulders. They were broad, dense, and unequivocally one of Ray's most attractive features, too often buried under oversized clothing. 

Ray closed his eyes and took satisfaction in this part of the massage, as it was calming, still teasing, and less unfamiliar than the rest of the experience. Often after missions he and Nate would debrief — not literally — and Nate would grind out whatever lingering stress Ray carried in his shoulders.

This familiarity shattered, however, as Ray felt one of Nate's greased hands lightly circle around his neck. His breath hot on Ray's neck, Nate whispered "and since I know you were wondering, we'll get to this part—"

Nate slapped his other hand square onto Ray's rotund ass, middle and ring fingers pressed lightly between his both cheeks and others straddling across.

"—later."

Blood shot straight to Ray's face and dick, resulting in a simultaneous searing blush and hard-on. Preoccupied with what had just happened, he hadn’t noticed that Ray had left his side until he heard a sharp whistle. Nate was standing over the leather couch on the far side of the room, pointing at it.

An inquisitive, nearly concerned look crept across Ray's face as he walked over to the couch. This was the best view of Nate he'd had in a while. His pale blue undershirt was damp with coconut oil and presumably Ray's sweat. His stern, uncompromising expression was at least somewhat compromised by the tent he was pitching in his boxer shorts.

"On all fours," said Nate. "Here."

"Before I do," said Ray, immediately after popping the now kind of soggy apple from his mouth. "Mind if I replace this?"

Nate feigned a look of annoyance.

"...fine."

"I mean I don't have to, it's just getting kind—"

"Just do it. You're, like, interrupting the tone I'm setting here."

Ray then tossed the Golden Delicious into a nearby trash bin, picked up what appeared to be a Cortland, stuck it in his mouth, gave Nate a thumb's up, and approximated a smile. He then walked his glistening body over to the couch and awaited further instructions.

"Calves here," said Nate, pointing at the side of the couch closest to him. "Facing that way," he added, gesturing to the farther end of the couch.

It didn't take long for Ray to intuit what this would look like. He lifted up one leg and placed it on the couch, then repeated with the other. He then dropped his tall frame downward to the far end, using his right forearm to brace on the cushion. His ass was pointed straight at Nate.

Nate took a moment to savor this scene. Here was Ray Palmer, a heroic and dweebish Renaissance sculpture of a man, bent over with an apple gagging his mouth, serving up his ass like a meal. The fog of lust hanging over Nate made his erection impatient, but he knew better than to sacrifice long-term profits for short-term gains.

Just as Ray was about to turn his head around to see what Nate had planned, he felt a slickened grip grab onto his dick and yank downward.

"Unh," gasped a muffled Ray as a shock of pleasure pulsated from his groin.

"You like that, Piggy Palmer?" asked a very smug Nate. He was crouching next to the couch with his left hand gently gripping and pulling Ray's thick, nine-inch dick between his legs and back towards Nate.

Ray had assumed it was a rhetorical question until he felt two sharp downward-upward strokes.

"Huh?"

After loosing an involuntary moan, Ray responded with a limp "uh-huh!"

Nate smirked and started pumping his grip up and down the length of Ray's dick, occasionally taking a second to linger around and oil Ray's shaft at the bottom of each stroke. It didn't take long for Ray's pre-cum to escape his dick and further moisten Nate's grasp. The captive erection sought to swing back towards Ray's chest, but Nate refused it, stroking gradually faster and yanking it more closely towards him.

"Pull out the apple," commanded Nate. "I want to hear you moan."

Ray was happy to oblige. As Nate ramped up his speed, making each stroke still deliberate and unique along the way, Ray pulled the apple out of his mouth and placed it on the end table facing him.

"See, this situation is precisely why 'Applejack' would've been a terrible safe word," said Ray with a laugh. He then felt as Nate ceased action, but still maintained his grip. He then heard a familiar "clang!" right before he felt what that meant.

Turning his torso to the best of his ability in his current position, Ray saw and confirmed what he had just felt: Nate had turned into his steel form, his metal grip now intentionally holding Ray's dick in a vise.

"Point taken!" squeaked Ray.

Nate returned his form to flesh and then focused his attention to Ray's. He now twisted his hand up and down Ray's cock, cranking it with a distinct corkscrew motion. He then lowered himself forward to add another element to his routine. Ray was completely caught off-guard when he felt Nate's stubbly, chiseled jaw insert itself between his cheeks.

Nate hastily used his free hand to grip and then spread Ray's ass out further, and let his tongue snake his way to Ray's sensitive hole.

Ray had no choice but to relinquish a hushed yell as his entire body convulsed in response. Goosebumps blossomed all over his skin in the wake of Nate's increasingly aggressive lapping of his tongue, which occurred in tandem with the thrusts around his dick. Ray gently clenched his teeth into his forearm to muffle the pleased panting escaping his mouth. He felt as Nate widened his tongue flat to take long, deliberate licks. He felt as Nate circled his asshole with his tongue. He felt as Nate inserted his tongue into his asshole, wiggling all the way in. He felt all of it.

To better focus on his current endeavor, and to keep Ray from spoiling the fun early, Nate relinquished his grasp from Ray's pulsing cock and used his remaining hand to spread Ray's cheeks even wider. He spit into his buddy's hole, and then pushed this new lubricant further in with his tongue. Ray stifled a yell, trying to maintain some composure as he descended further into a sexual frenzy. 

"So how does Piggy Palmer like being basted?" asked Nate, momentarily lifting his face from Ray's ass, the strings of saliva connecting the two hanging slack as he pulled away. "Think you can handle some more milking without spilling it early?” added Nate, giving Ray's dangling dick one full-bodied stroke.

Ray knew the appropriate response to these questions would be some dirty talk banter, or maybe just a moan in response, but an observation was stuck in his mind, and Ray Palmer was not best known for a context-appropriate filter.

"So, first I was a guinea pig, then a regular pig, and my inference from that last comment is that I'm a cow now?" asked Ray in an amiable, naive, foolish manner. "I'm changing animal forms so much — are you replacing me as Amaya, Nate?”

To his credit, Ray Palmer realized his mistake in equating himself to Nate's recent ex-girlfriend almost nanoseconds after it slipped out of his lips. Unfortunately, a now sore spot-struck Nate was not accepting credit at this time.

"Thank you, Ray, for so delicately drawing attention to how I'm mixing my metaphors and how they correlate with my disaster dating history," said Nate, promptly standing up from his side of the couch and walking around to the other side.

"I'll make sure to be more narratively consistent going forward," he said as he approached Ray's face, while simultaneously sticking his left hand into the fly of his boxers. "As I put you on the spit, solving both of our problems."

As he made that last statement, Nat finished finagling his taut erection through the fly of his shorts, lowered himself, and pointed it straight at Ray's embarrassment-stricken face. Ray was about to fumble an apology when Nate intercepted it by shoving his cock, though not all eight inches at once, right into Ray's gaping mouth.

Ray instinctively gagged, though he wasn't displeased with the current circumstances. Ever since he saw Nate's genital salute outlined through his boxers near the beginning of this whole charade, he'd been secretly eager to wrap his mouth around it.

Though currently housed in Ray’s throat, it became clear that Nate was still in the driver's seat their tête-à-tête, and drive he did. Nate immediately grabbed the back of Ray's head with both hands and just started face-fucking his friend with a calculated fury. 

Second after second Ray's face met the fabric of Nate's boxer shorts as his buddy’s dick sheathed itself in out of his throat. Nate did make sure to nearly pull out completely every few rounds, resting his tip neatly on Ray's tongue, to allow his friend to breathe through his mouth. Luckily, past experience had taught Ray how to optimize his nasal breathing in between those breaks.

It was during one of these short intermissions where Ray, catching his breath, felt Nate peel away one hand and migrate the other to the top of his head, where he started scratching his scalp gently. It was a relief to feel some tactile gentleness, though it was deeply suspicious. 

Ray craned his head upwards to the best of his positional ability, and saw Nate with a devious smile and the previously unaccounted hand brandishing his formidable cock. Nate didn't say anything, he didn't need to, as he traced the outside of Ray's cheek with it, leaving a faint trail of pre-cum and spit along his buddy's cheek line.

Ray caught the hint, realizing this might be one of the few moments in this sketch where he'd be able to even nominally exercise control, and seized the opportunity. As it was impatiently jutting into his cheek, Ray needed only to turn his head slightly for Nate's cock to pop right between his lips. He let its head sit neatly on the widening bed of his tongue, and tilted his own head upward to momentarily make eye contact with Nate, whose dumb, mood-betraying smile nonetheless delighted him. He then lowered his head back down and began working away.

Ray bobbed his head back and forth in a slow, steady rhythm, using his tongue's limited range to cradle and stroke Nate's shaft, always aiming for what he knew to be the most tender part. He registered success whenever he heard Nate try his best to stifle his surprisingly higher-pitched, boy-ish moans in an effort to maintain this "no nonsense" character he was playing.

In response, Ray escalated his efforts to further wrest control, even if only temporarily. He surged his entire body forward in his effort to deep throat Nate's cock, which wound up pushing right against the back of his throat. Despite the physical discomfort, Ray relished feeling his buddy's body, whose torso was now mashed up against his face, buckle and squirm, matched by the twitching cock crammed in his throat.

"Oh, oh my go—” gasped Nate, the top half of his body heaving forward as his lower half was locked in place.

If Ray's mouth weren't full, it would've twitched into a smile. Satisfied and no longer able to hold the position himself, Ray pulled back, momentarily freeing Nate's cock, which dripped with thick strands of saliva. Before too long, however, Ray pushed forward again, this time grabbing Nate's throbbing member with his right hand and tilting it upward. Again making eye contact with a now wide-eyed Nate, Ray leaned in and gave his dick a gingerly and long full-length stroke of his tongue. He repeated this strategy and added occasional variants, sometimes snaking his tongue down to Nate's balls, or using it to trace the underside of his pulsing head. Sometimes he angled Nate's cock into his mouth so it would scrape the inside of his cheek, creating a visible outline for Nate to see on Ray’s face.

Nate threw his own head back and closed his eyes to enjoy this bliss as he felt Ray return to another deep-throating rhythm. As the sexual pressure tightened in his crotch, he realized that if this roleplay intermission went on any longer, the remaining show would not go on.

"Okay okay," said a panting Nate, who simultaneously pulled all eight inches of himself out of Ray's throat. "We don't want to garnish the pig too fast."

“Now,” he added. “You wouldn't really be a pig on a spit unless you were stuffed at both ends, right?"

A look of shock shot across Ray's face as he glanced around to make sure Gary wasn't somehow still at the bureau. He didn't have the emotional bandwidth for Gary right now. 

It was at this point Ray felt Nate pinch his nose, prompting him to open his mouth, which, in turn, prompted Nate to stuff a new apple back in Ray's mouth.

_Oh_ , thought Ray. _Thank god_.

As he walked back to the other end of the couch, Nate delicately traced a finger from the nape of Ray's neck down the glistening path of his spine, all the way down to his pert and presented ass. Nate first slid his boxer shorts down and off his legs and then peeled off his damp shirt, leaving his lean, muscled, and tanned body fully exposed to Ray and the Time Bureau office. Wasting no further time, Nate grabbed Ray by the hips and pulled him at an angle closer to the edge of the couch. He lifted his left foot and leg onto it to balance himself, spread open Ray's right cheek with his matching hand, and leaned forward to gently press the head of his cock against the threshold of his hole.

"And now's the part where I want to hear you squeal," said Nate in a low and steadied tone, delivered as both a threat and promise at once.

And then in Nate pushed.

Ray involuntarily squeezed the arm rest and couch cushion within his grasp and clenched his teeth around his apple gag the best he could without snapping through it. He felt as Nate gradually eased his way inward, sending Ray's nerves aflame with equal parts pleasure and discomfort. Soon Nate was fully holstered in between Ray's spread cheeks, where he held position for a few seconds. Much of Ray's discomfort was eclipsed just by the euphoric knowledge that Nate was connected to him in such a literal way.

"Ready?" asked Nate.

"Uh-hunh" replied a nervous, yet ready, Ray.

Without hesitation, Nate began. He pulled back, and pushed forth. Back and forth, with a considered, but gradually escalating, pace. After a few thrusts he began to cultivate a specific rhythm: slow, slow, fast, fast / gentle, gentle, staccato and harder. He isolated his movement primarily to his hips, gliding forward and backward in a routine. Ray was quick to follow his partner, knowing when to savor the anticipation and brace for the sharper thrusts. Both men were strong, and were poised well to endure and yet still surprise one another.

As this routine continued, Ray felt Nate make a concerted effort to push downwards towards his prostate area, which he able to hit with a disarming regularity. With each hit Ray relinquished a short, high-pitched moan that scratched Nate’s itch to hear his friend squeal. Ray's cock made for an honest barometer for his pleasure, as its taut form slapped up and down with Nate's movements, spilling pre-cum onto the couch below.

Eager to amplify this experience further, Nate, still keeping his cock firmly in Ray's ass, moved himself fully onto the couch, guiding his friend's plush rump with him, in an effort to change the choreography. He then leaned forward and got as horizontally parallel with Ray's body as possible, which was now nearly flat on this blessedly long couch.

Nate laid his chest down against Ray's back, threading his arms underneath Ray's to anchor their bodies against one another.

"We're inseparable, Ray Palmer," said a breathy Nate.

Ray savored the scene's unexpected sentimentality, knowing Nate intended it as an assurance about their future. The momentary serenity of the scene dissipated at his partner started jackhammering square into his ass.

The nature of their position meant that each of Nate's brutal wallops against Ray's thick hindquarters resulted in loud, resonant slaps across the conference room, joined further by the choir of the two men's now uninhibited moaning. Wherever possible, Nate jammed and swiveled his cock deeper within Ray's ass, which now choked and squeezed its throbbing inhabitant with an iron grip. The men’s sweaty and heaving bodies all but fused with one another, with Nate panting, almost screaming into the back of Ray's neck.

'May I?" asked Nate.

"Please," begged Ray, spitting that godforsaken apple out of his mouth.

Nate accelerated his thrusts to his hardest and fastest possible speed and, after just a few seconds, shot ribbons of cum into Ray's ass, one rope fast following the next. Ray's sphincter clenched, as if thirsty to wring out every last drop of his bro’s gift.

"Turn over," commanded Nate. He popped his still dripping cock out of Ray's backside, and guided Ray in flipping over onto his back.

Nate pushed himself backwards and lowered his head and mouth right onto Ray's still fully erect cock, which, due to his normally porcelain complexion, was now brimming a flush red. Fortunately, Nate had always been partial to red meat.

Ray, still winded and sore from such a thorough tenderizing, was transfixed as he watched Nate engulf his dick into his mouth. Waves of pleasure mounted as he felt Nate's tongue and throat twist and slide over his head and full length. They were layered by the emotional euphoria he felt as he watched Nate at work, who endeavored to maintain unmitigated eye contact with Ray throughout. 

Ray watched with awe as Nate slapped his cheek with his cock, licked the entire underside of its length, and then tried with great effort to deep throat it. His girth stretched open Nate's jaw, and its length tested the limits of his throat. But, with great determination, the man managed.

The two men locked eyes for a moment, and Ray could have sworn that Nate, face still impressively stuffed with his friend's cock, cracked something approximating a smile. And Ray smiled back.

Nate sputtered, saliva spitting from his mouth, and he quickly pulled back and off of Ray's dripping cock, and, yes, he was laughing. He shot Ray back a smile, took a second to catch his breath, and then proceeded forward to the finale. He shifted himself backwards, splaying himself out on his stomach, angled Ray's cock right towards his face, widened open his mouth, and started furiously jacking his friend off.

Seeing Nate poised so perfectly, so ready to devour his cum as his ass did Nate's, sent Ray into throes of anticipation. Nate proceeded furiously, pounding and pounding as every muscle in Ray's body from his fingertips to his toes clenched and he choked back pleading gasps until—

The first rope of Ray's cum shot directly onto Nate's outstretched tongue. And the second as well. The third and fourth shot straight into his throat. As Nate's grip slackened a bit, the angle of Ray's cock changed, sending the fifth burst onto his left cheekbone, and the sixth upward onto Nate's— _oh no_ thought Ray—hair. The rest continued to sputter out in various directions, mostly still on Nate's face, and Nate dutifully took them all, maintaining his unflinching eye contact with Ray.

Once the torrent abated, Nate put the head of Ray's cock back in his mouth one last time, swiveling his tongue around it an effort to clean it dry, and pulled it out of his mouth at such an angle as to make a loud, intentionally comedic popping noise. He smirked, and then gently pulled his body forward to rest on Ray's and match his lips to his. They laid there for a minute, mashing saliva with sweat and semen, before gently succumbing to exhaustion and resting for a little while longer.

* * *

"I know it's going to be tough, for the both of us, but I think this time away from the Waverider will do a lot to shift my perspective," said Nate, pulling his boxers back on and drying the sweat off his chest with his bundled up bathrobe. "But no amount of perspective shift will change the fact that you'll always stay at the center of it, okay?"

A fully-dressed Ray smiled.

"Thanks, Nate," he responded with appreciation and relief. "I guess it doesn't take a rocket scientist — or historian? — to figure out I came here because I was insecure. About, y’know, what our future looked like.”

“But, after talking and, uh, getting closer to you tonight, I feel better. Well, also more sore and sweaty and tired, but also: better.”

"I did honestly think you needed this care package, though," he added. "The rate at which you go through hair product would not have been sustained by your initial supplies.”

"Though," Ray glanced at the now nearly empty jar of coconut they'd been using all night, "it looks like you could already use another refill."

"I look forward to when my delivery guy comes with his next package, then," said Nate with a wink, swinging his arm around Ray's back as they wandered out of the Time Bureau conference room. 

"Because whatever I’m using in my hair right now," he added, referencing the remnants of Ray's cum still caught in his otherwise manicured wave, "just isn’t by itself the right substitute.”

**Author's Note:**

> Uh, hi! This was both my first fanfic ever completed/published, and my first foray into erotic writing of any kind! I super encourage feedback on this, positive and critical and everything in-between, as that was a motivating factor into why I decided to make the AO3 jump! The other motivating factor was Atomsteel, and the tragically underserved ships of Legends of Tomorrow.
> 
> Please feel free to find me at @omniastorm on both Twitter and Tumblr! A warning: the former is p NSFW, the latter used to be and is trying to find its new identity. Thank you for reading!


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